


Vulcan, Not Dead.

by Kitty_Kinneas



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Vulcans and Chocolate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 13:42:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19319353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitty_Kinneas/pseuds/Kitty_Kinneas
Summary: AU - In a universe where Starfleet is a powerful, tyrannical force, James T. Kirk is in need of a new ship. The construction of Starfleet's newest flagship presents an interesting opportunity, but the one thing standing between him and the ship is a finicky Vulcan with a keen interest in the finer details.





	Vulcan, Not Dead.

**Author's Note:**

> My offering for the Star Trek Reverse Big Bang 2019. Written to go along with the beautiful artwork created by my partner keikei_firefly here on Archive of our Own and firefly-party over on tumblr.

..

The rusty catwalk rattled alarmingly as Jim made his way along it, Bones at his heels muttering about how they were going to die from tetanus just from touching the rails. The embattled old spacestation shuddered as another ship made dock and Bones’ new theory was that they were just going to be sucked into space when it failed. As Jim began to climb down a ladder, Bones following him down, he decided they should pray the artificial gravity _did_ fail, so when the ladder came apart, they wouldn’t plunge to their deaths.

“Bones,” Jim said, trying to cut into his recitation of death as he turned another corner.

Nothing doing. The Doctor informed him of the kinds of parasitic creatures that liked to live in near-derelict old spacestations like this one, and would inevitably crawl into their ears, nostrils, or worse orifices to rot them from the inside out.

“ _Bones_.”

“Aye, Captain?”

“Shut up. We’ve got bigger things to worry about.”

“I don’t see what can be bigger than-”

His voice died in his throat as they came around a final corner and into a cavernous, creaking old cargo bay where their ship was currently docked, supposedly for repairs.

“Good God, man,” Bones said, his eyes widening.

“Yeah, I know,” Jim replied miserably.

The _Jackal_ was a ragged ship in the first place, shaped more like a giant shuttlecraft than any of the sleeker, newer ships populating space these days, but their last encounter had all but done her in. Phaser fire had torn the ship open from bow to stern, jagged, scorched slashes had laid ruin to the engine room and her warp core was precariously close to falling out – they were probably lucky it hadn’t blown. Living quarters were ripped open as well, personal belongings that hadn’t been sucked out before the shielding kicked in lying strewn across the bare floors. One nacelle was actually blown off, the other still smoking, despite the fact no power was currently running through the ship. There was a gaping hole in the bridge, and Jim didn’t need to board the ship to remember the shambles his command centre had been left in.

“We don’t have enough credits to deal with this,” Jim said slowly. “Nothin’ left to barter either.”

Bones was silent, finally, his habitual litany of death failing him in the face of the _Jackal’s_ sorry state. “So… what are we going to do?” he wondered, looking sadly at their ship – their home, really.

“Get another ship.”

Bones turned slowly to look at him, eyes narrowing. “So, we’re too short on credits or barter to get this ship repaired, but we’re gonna magically produce enough for a new ship,” he stated with an edge of disbelief.

“We’re not going to buy it.”

Jim tossed a data padd at him and Bones fumbled it quite dramatically for a moment before catching it, which seemed to amuse his young Captain. He turned it over in his hands and flicked it on, eyes scanning it for only a few seconds before he completely lost his composure, giving way to gales of laughter.

Jim waited it out, hands tucked in the back pockets of his ragged jeans, which carried a scorch mark or two of their own. He was smirking, his nose lifted arrogantly and when Bones finally got control himself, his humour evaporated rapidly.

“You’re serious.”

“As the plague,” Jim replied.

“Speaking of the plague…”

Jim rolled his eyes, turned on his heel and marched out of the cargo bay, leaving the beleaguered _Jackal_ behind for good.

\- - - - - - -

The night was crisp and clear, the breeze stirring Spock’s inky black hair as he strode along the well-lit gangway. His velvet, embroidered tunic glittered in the neon lights and he brushed an imaginary speck of dust off the shoulder as he stepped onto the half-completed ship. He breathed in deeply, enjoying the clean, solid scents of welding, oil, metal and the other engineering redolence that mostly masked that of the non-Vulcan workers passing to and fro.

Spock took out his data padd and glanced at the plans it contained. He knew them inside and out, but he still liked to have the reference. He began his inspection of the ship, taking down notes as he went.

When he reached Engineering he stopped. He didn’t frown – he was Vulcan – but he did stare at the dilithium chambers for a good, long while before he turned on his heel and marched off the ship. A few of the workers watched him go warily.

He made his way directly to the Build Manager’s office and thrust open the door.

“Mr S-”

“The dilithium chambers are eight microns smaller than my specifications,” he declared calmly, folding his hands behind his back with a rustle of voluminous sleeves.

The Build Manager peered at him for a few moments, then finally said; “You’re joking.”

“Vulcans do not joke.”

The woman pushed a hand through her hair, letting out a huff of irritation. This was probably the hundredth tiny complaint Spock had come to her with, and she thought that was an _underestimation_. “Eight microns?” she said.

“Eight microns,” he agreed. “You will have to replace the matrix.”

“Okay, now I _know_ you’re joking. You can’t seriously be telling me we need to replace the _entire_ dilithium matrix for the sake of _eight microns_ in the chambers.”

He didn’t answer her, but only watched her calmly, disapproval in his gaze.

“I’m not doing it. That’s _insane_.”

“This design is lightyears ahead of what you or your staff could come up with. As such, you should yield to my better judgement in these matters,” Spock said, not unkindly to his way of thinking, but more as a patient teacher with an unruly student.

“Get out of my office.”

One brow cocked towards his carefully styled bangs. “I do not believe you can-”

“Well I am. You might have designed the ship, Mr. Spock, but I’m the one employed to put the bloody thing together and I’m telling you right now, Starfleet can’t afford the time or the currency to replace the _whole damn dilithium matrix_ for the sake of an eight micron difference between your plan and the actual chambers.”

He peered at her for a long moment, saying nothing, then inclined his head slightly and left the office.

\- - - - - - -

Jim was just about to knock when the door swung open with such ferocity it was lucky he was standing at the bottom of the little stairs or it would have taken him out. In the doorway stood a _furious_ woman, whose eyes narrowed when she saw him.

“Oh. You must be _my replacement_. Well good fucking luck, kid.”

“Wh-”

She held up a hand and shoved past him, three or four engineers on her heels.

Jim exchanged glances with Bones, Scotty and Chekov, one brow arching but they didn’t have time to speak as a tall, slender Vulcan stepped down from the office.

“Mr. Kirk?” he asked, his manner of speaking quite proper.

“You must be Mr. Spock.” Jim offered his hand.

There was the barest hesitation, then Spock took it, giving a light shake.

“Greetings, Mr. Kirk. I am glad you have arrived. As you can see, we are in great need of your services.”

Kirk nodded, planting his hands on his hips. “She didn’t seem too happy,” he said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder where the woman had gone.

“We had a difference of opinion,” Spock replied mildly.

“Hmm,” was all the reply Jim made.

“Hopefully we will… get on better,” Spock said and waved him inside.

They spent a good hour discussing the ship and her requirements. Jim only really nodded and hummed, but the Vulcan seemed happy enough with that. It didn’t take Jim long to figure out why Spock and the woman had had a ‘difference of opinion’. To say the Vulcan was a stickler was like saying space was a little chilly.

When he was finished detailing literally every inch of the ship, he paused and looked expectantly at Jim.

“Uh,” Jim said.

“I hope you can achieve this in the allotted time,” Spock prompted.

“Oh. Oh, right, of course,” Jim said, waving a hand and glancing at Chekov. “Sure, it won’t be a problem.

Spock’s eyes narrowed slightly, but then he gave a nod and left the office.

“Not a problem?” Chekov hissed after a few moments – hopefully enough that the Vulcan was out of earshot. “This man is so… uh… _nitpicky_ we will be lucky to get done by Christmas. Ah, no, no! By _next Christmas_.”

Scotty was nodding hard in agreement.

“Ah, it’ll be fine, don’t worry. We’ll work it out.”

Chekov rolled his eyes.

\- - - - - - -

It had been four months. Four months of keeping the Vulcan happy as they worked to put together the ship they intended to take as their own. Jim was pretty sure Spock had actually figured out Scotty was the engineer, not him, but the Vulcan hadn’t said anything. Probably because he’d also realised Jim called the shots and Scotty and the other engineers he’d brought aboard would go with him if he left.

The ship was beautiful. Her name was _Enterprise_ , or it would be, and comparing her to _Jackal_ would be like comparing a pedigree rottweiler to a street mutt comprised of chihuahua, shih tzu and pekingese parentage. She was sleek and she was vicious and she was fast and she was a shark in waters patrolled by goldfish.

Starfleet didn’t need her. They already had probably eighty percent of the peoples within reach of Earth under their thumb and God knew those fighting against it were losing. _They_ needed her.

Jim needed her.

And, truth be told, he was kind of falling in love with her. And not just because of her weaponry. Though, okay, that was pretty attractive. The rest of her was pretty good too.

Currently, he was writing a progress report for Spock, but he looked up when Scotty stumped into the room, a veritable thundercloud gathered over his head.

“You said we’d work it out, aye?” Scotty tossed a data padd on his desk and Jim arched a brow. “Work this out.”

He peered at Scotty for a long moment, but the man just indicated the padd so, with a roll of his eyes, he took it up and activated it. After squinting at the details on it for a few moments, he sighed and tossed it down. “Well,” he said, rubbing his chin.

“’Well’?” Scotty echoed. “’Well’. Is that all you’ve got to say? This security goes layers deep, Captain. I’m good. Chekov is good. But we can’t crack this, and he’ll notice if we take it out. No bloody way can we take this ship. We can’t even turn on a light without the Vulcan’s codes.”

Jim sucked his teeth.

“You worry about getting the ship operational. I’ll worry about operating her.”

Scotty’s brows lifted. “Uhuh. What, are you just going to ask ‘im for them?”

Jim grinned. “Something like that.”

\- - - - - - -

Spock actually looked surprised. At least, Jim would tell himself that for a long time. There was maybe the barest flicker of reaction in that stonewall face. After it passed, one angled brow winged upwards and the Vulcan shook his head a little.

“Mr. Kirk-“

“Jim.”

“ _Mr. Kirk_. I… appreciate the offer,” he continued in a tone of voice that suggested he anything but appreciated it. “But I am afraid I will have to turn you down.”

“Come on. It’s just a drink. To celebrate our progress so far,” Jim cajoled.

They were standing on the _Enterprise’s_ bridge, looking out over the twinkling lights of the city. Jim was wearing his favourite leather jacket, the seemingly juvenile little-green-man patch on the sleeve in fact the resistance logo. It looked good on him, and he knew it, but he couldn’t tell if it was working on Spock.

“Alcoholic beverages do not carry the same intrinsic value for a Vulcan as they seem to for your kind,” Spock replied blandly.

“Oh, but it’s just _one_.”

“I do not partake in the drinking of alcohol. Besides, it does not af-”

“Oh, yeah, I know.” Jim paused for a moment, watching Spock, then he grinned and took a small bar of chocolate out of his pocket. “How about this?”

There was definitely a flicker of surprise at that.

“How did you…?”

Jim shrugged. “I’m well-read. Come on. Just a square or two, yeah?” He waggled it.

Spock hesitated. It was a _long_ hesitation. But eventually, he shook his head and lifted a hand. “No, it would not be proper.”

“Oh, come _on_. We’re working together basically all the time. It’s as proper as it gets.”

Spock shook his head again, and left the bridge.

“That went well,” Bones said dryly from where he was pretending to wire something in the corner. He didn’t know shit about wiring, but he had to pretend he did in order to stay around. God knew Spock was too efficient to bother keeping him there if he knew he was a doctor and not an engineer.

“Didn’t it?” Jim said, with no suggestion of sarcasm.

Bones frowned at him. “Jim. He turned you down so cold I’m surprised you don’t have frostbite.”

“Oh, please. You don’t watch him hard enough. He was tempted.”

“Oh, and you been watching him that… hard… huh?” Bones asked, smirking.

“Yes. Because we need those codes.”

“Uhuh. Right. The codes. You like him.”

Jim snorted, opening the chocolate bar and taking a bite. He gestured with it. “Please. The guy is like an old lady fussing over her porcelain figures. Everything has to be _just right_.”

“Yeah, I get that, but… you like a challenge. And you can’t get much more challenging than this one.”

Jim shook his head. “This is all about this job, Bones. We need the ship – we’re gonna get it.”

“If I weren’t so broke, I’d bet it doesn’t end up being just about the job.”

“Yeah, well. Lucky for you, you are broke, or I’d be taking all your money.”

Jim clapped him on the shoulder and went to see how Chekov was doing with the manifolds.

\- - - - - - -

Spock did not yawn, because he was Vulcan, but he was exhausted. This new crew were efficient, and Mr. Kirk, despite his… eccentricities, had them all working their fingers to the bone. It was clear to Spock they would do anything for him, and he admired that. He had met few men who inspired that sort of devotion, especially in Starfleet. Most of them inspired fearful obedience instead.

He considered this as he entered his quarters aboard the ship, having moved there to oversee the work more easily. He was not afraid of any of the humans who had power in Starfleet, but he was there because his own superiors on Vulcan wanted him to be. He didn’t fear them either, but he knew as well as they did he had to do what they told him to do. His half-caste status meant his own power, such as it was, was precarious at best.

Once _Enterprise_ was complete, he would be able to go home and the high council had promised him the position his parentage – at least on his father’s side – offered him. That is to say, they had promised they would overlook his mother.

He sighed heavily as he sat behind his desk, rubbing a hand over his face in a brief moment of weakness. He didn’t like the idea of pretending his mother wasn’t who she was, but he had no other option. He didn’t want to live on this human-infested planet, ground to a nub under the clutches of their Starfleet. It made him sad – though naturally he would never show it – to see such oppression.

But it just wasn’t in the High Council’s nature to fight what the humans were doing to each other. Instead, they ingratiated themselves to Starfleet to avoid Vulcan’s own annexation – or at least to avoid the fight it would take to resist.

He folded his hands together, preparing to meditate, then paused. Right in the center of his meticulously clean desk was one small square of chocolate, sat atop a folded slip of paper. Eyes narrowed, he plucked up the chocolate between his thumb and forefinger and with the other hand retrieved the piece of paper. He flicked it open.

‘You should celebrate, even if it’s on your own.’

Spock’s brows rose and he dropped the paper, holding the chocolate before one eye. He drew a deep breath, inhaling the rich scent, then opened his mouth and carefully placed it on his tongue. Slowly, his eyes slid shut and he let out a long sigh through his nose.

Humans might be… inadequate in a lot of areas, but chocolate was an invention Spock wished the Vulcan had come up with. It was good. It was _so good_. And this wasn’t cheap chocolate either. He let it melt across his tongue, coating every tastebud with its bittersweetness. He almost regretted it when he had to swallow, though the taste would linger for some time. He licked his lips, then folded his hands together once more to meditate.

\- - - - - - -

Jim was grinning as he meandered to Spock’s quarters, the Vulcan having summoned him first thing this morning. He knew exactly why.

He rapped jauntily on the door and entered when it slid open.

Spock was sat behind his desk, eyeballing Jim like he was a tribble ready to multiply.

Jim’s own eyes searched the desk and his grin doubled. “So…” he drawled. “Enjoy it?”

“How did you get into my room?” Spock asked instead of answering.

Jim folded his arms and shrugged. “I’ve been working on this ship. I know her inside and out. You did enjoy it, didn’t you?”

“How. Did you get into my room?” Spock asked again.

“Jefferies tubes. You can get anywhere on a ship with a bit of ingenuity and some muscle,” Jim said simply. He rested his hands on the edge of the desk, leaning towards Spock and lowered his voice. “It’s okay, you can tell me. You enjoyed it, didn’t you?”

Spock instinctively wanted to draw back, but he didn’t, because it would be a sign of weakness. He just scoffed lightly.

“I threw it out.”

Jim’s brows shot up. “Horseshit. That was good chocolate. No way you threw it out.”

“Vulcans do not lie.”

“That’s also horseshit. You’re lying right now.”

Spock’s mouth twitched a little despite himself and he sniffed, sitting back in his chair. “You broke into my rooms and you now accuse me of lying? I think, of the two of us, you would be the more likely to lie – that is plain logic.”

“It’s also logic to think you ate that chocolate and enjoyed it, because who wouldn’t? Especially a Vulcan.” Jim grinned and it was infectious. Spock’s mouth twitched a bit more.

“I ate the chocolate,” he admitted finally. “It is accurate to say it was difficult to resist, and I thank you for it. But that does not pardon the fact you broke into my room.”

“Yeah,” Jim drawled. “But I didn’t steal anything. I just left you a present. Which you accepted. And enjoyed. I don’t think you can, in good conscience, be upset with me for the whole break in thing.”

“Vulcans do not get upset.”

“That, I believe.” A pause. “Though, if what I’ve read is true, you do _get_ upset, you just don’t give into it.”

Spock remained silent on that point and Jim assumed that meant it was true.

“Maybe next time, you can eat it with me while I drink. Just one or two pieces. Nothing extreme.” He winked.

Spock’s stomach did something weird which he chose to ignore and he cleared his throat, standing and turning his back on Jim to compose himself. “I believe you have work to do,” he said.

Jim grinned. “Yeah. I suppose so. I’ll see you later.”

Spock let out a breath as he listened to Jim depart.

\- - - - - - -

Spock leaned over the schematics, his dark eyes intense. Beside his left hand was a data padd on which he was checking off things done.

Jim watched him from the other side of the table, reaching out to point at an area of the nacells. “We’ve run out of conduit to bring power from here to the forward cargo bays and it’s going to take a few days for that to get here, so we’re going to be a bit behind on that.”

Spock nodded appreciatively. He liked Kirk’s attention to detail and his honesty. He kept to Spock's specifications perfectly, or if he couldn't, then he came to Spock beforehand to talk it through rather than just doing what he wanted.

"Is there other work to be going on with?" Spock wondered.  
  
"Oh, always," Jim assured him, coming around to look at Spock's list. He leaned in close, his shoulder against the Vulcan's. "We can move on to these sections, linking up the power conduits and testing their capacities. A lot of what's left to be done now are… well, not _cosmetic_ , technically, but sort of… in that vein. No big jobs, you know?"

Spock nodded, shifting slightly to break the contact between them, but Jim nonchalantly reached across the schematics in such a way that he closed the distance again. His hand brushed Spock's as he tapped one of the clusters of wires, zooming in. "This bit here, it's going to take some time. There's some complicated wiring in there that requires a delicate touch. I think Chekov can handle it-" He paused. "Actually, I'm sure he can, but it won't be quick."

"Better to have it done properly than quickly," Spock said.

Jim's mouth twitched. "A philosophy I can get behind," he said with a bounce of his brows.

It took Spock a heartbeat longer then most to catch his meaning, then the Vulcan coughed, glancing away. "Mr. Kirk, I do not think it is entirely appropriate to make such comments."

"Why?" Jim asked innocently.

"Because I am your superior."

"Actually, you're not. I'm not Starfleet, and even if I was, you're a consultant, not a member of Starfleet yourself."

Spock coughed a little. "Then I am your boss."

"Mmm, not really that either. Starfleet is paying me, and they're paying you. That makes them our boss, and we're more like colleagues."

Spock opened his mouth to speak, but Jim went on; "And I'd hope, by now, friends."

That brought him up short. Friends? He'd never even considered it.

"I do not…" he started, but trailed off.

Jim cocked his head. "Aren't we?"

Spock was silent, frowning slightly.

"You're right. How could we even know? We haven't done anything socially. Let's go out."

"Out?" Spock said weakly.

"Sure. Out."

"Out where?"

"You know, just out. Don't Vulcans go out?"

Spock looked blankly at him.

"...We're definitely going out."

\- - - - - - -

That was how he ended up in this place that was both too dark and too bright at once, full of humans and other species - even some Vulcans - and a heavy sound… or sensation… or some combination of both that Jim said was 'bass'.

It was strange, this place. The lights were dim and a haze hung in the air, but it flickered with laser lights and glowbands that sometimes made Spock shy away in surprise as they flashed in his dilated pupils. The mass of bodies moving to the so-called music gave off a scent of excitement and sex and nervous anticipation that made him feel jumpy and on-edge.

The only solid and predictable thing was Jim's arm around his waist, with which the man guided him around the edge of the throng and over to the bar.

He ushered Spock onto a stool and climbed up beside him.

"What can I get for you, Jim?"

"Give us a Saurian Brandy and…" He glanced at Spock, who started to shake his head, but ignored him and went on; "One of those DBC things."

The bartender arched a brow.

"What? It's for him!" Jim declared.

"DBC?" Spock hissed as the bartender turned away to get their order. "What on Vulcan-"

"Don't worry. You'll love it," Jim said, patting his hand.

Spock twitched a little and took it off the bar, eyes narrowed. Jim was smiling innocently, but Spock didn't believe he was innocent at all.

The bartender set their drinks down before them and the scent coming off the 'DBC' instantly overrode anything else the Vulcan could pick out.

"DBC," Jim said smugly, sliding it a little closer to Spock. "Death by Chocolate. It's a martini."

"Mr. Kirk-"

"Jim."

Spock paused, dragging his eyes up from the drink to the other man's face.

"I do not think-"

"I do. We're not at work. We're out. I think you can call me Jim."

Spock shook his head a little. "Mr. Kirk, while I thank you for your generosity in bringing me… out and purchasing me this beverage, I think I would like to go home now."

"You mean back to the ship."

"Does it matter?"

Jim sat back a little, sipping his brandy. "Yeah, it matters. All you do is work, Spock. Work, work, work - oh and eat and sleep. You gotta live a little. Get knee-deep - or at least ankle-deep - in it."

"In… what?" Spock asked, frowning.

" _Life_! C'mon." Jim leaned in, close enough that his breath fanned across Spock's cheek when he spoke. "I know you want to try that drink. I know you can smell it."

Spock let out a huff of breath, his eyes falling half-closed. "It is not appropriate," he said.

"You say that about everything. But we're not at work. It's fine," Jim cajoled.

Spock sighed and smoothed his hand over his hair. Jim wasn't wrong - he did want to try the drink. But he also really did think it was inappropriate to be drinking with someone who technically worked for him. But then again he'd agreed to go out, hadn't he? So wasn't it already too late? He curled his fingers around the stem of the glass.

He was acutely aware of Jim's gaze on him as he brought the glass up, but once the chocolate-crusted rim touched his lips, he was no longer aware of anything but the sweet tastes assailing him. They overtook everything else and he closed his eyes, letting out a slow breath through his nose.

"It's good, yeah?" Jim asked after a few moments.

Spock opened his eyes. "It will suffice," he said, but Jim could hear the subtle note of teasing in his tone.

He laughed, slapping Spock on the shoulder. "That's the way."

Spock took a long time over the drink, but Jim didn't rush him, and didn't leave him either. When he was done, they sat for a while, then Jim said; "Dance?"

Spock blinked at him like he didn't understand the term.

"Would you like to dance with me?" Jim clarified.

"Oh… Vulcans do not-"

Jim didn't say a word. He just pointed to the dancefloor where there were _several_ Vulcans.

Spock scowled. “They have clearly been affected by their time here,” he said aloofly.

“Then maybe it’s time you got affected,” Jim suggested. “Come on. Indulge my infantile human customs. It won’t kill you.”

“I did not say it was infantile.”

“But you were thinking it, I bet. Look, I’ve done all the work you asked me to, given you chocolate, brought you out and got you a drink. The least you can do is dance with me.”

Spock hesitated, but his sense of honor was pricked by this litany of things Jim had done for him, so finally he sighed and took Jim’s offered hand. “Two minutes,” he warned.

Jim grinned and towed him onto the dancefloor.

He was very bad at it.

Spock had studied human ritualistic behaviours, including dancing, but what was happening on this dance floor was not waltzing or salsa or a foxtrot or even line dancing. There were no rules or patterns. From what Spock could tell, it just involved pressing up against your partner and kind of… squirming and twisting. There was only the vaguest sort of bouncing motion that matched the heavy beat of the music.

“This is not dancing,” Spock said, almost accusatory.

“Sure it is. There’s music and we’re moving to it.”

Spock narrowed his eyes like the whole thing was some huge conspiracy.

"Dancing involves patterns and repeated steps," he argued.

"Yeah, that's pretty old fashioned," Kirk replied. He grabbed Spock's hips and drew him in, leading him with the movements of his own body.

To begin with, it was spectacularly awkward and they bumped into each other more than they moved with one another. Then after a short while, Spock realised Jim was actually moving to a pattern and he was able to begin following it.

"There you go," Jim said lowly. "You're getting it."

"Only because you are giving me a pattern to follow," Spock replied astutely.

"Well… I want you to enjoy yourself. I don't want it to be awful for you."

"It is awful," Spock declared.

Jim snorted. "It's not that awful."

It had been, to start with, but as the chocolate settled in his system and the rhythmic movements Jim was making became easier to follow, it grew less awful, he supposed. And if was honest with himself, he liked the heat of Jim's body against his own. There was a fine sheen of sweat on both their bodies when Jim lead him back to the bar.

"Do you want another drink?" Jim asked, his hand resting on Spock's forearm.

"Water, please," Spock said.

Jim handed him the bottle without judgement when it came. He also had some water, but a brandy as well.

The second time he asked Spock to dance, he was less reluctant and moved into it far more easily. They were close and tight and Spock could smell Jim and he thought maybe a hint of chocolate, but perhaps that was in his mind.

Quite suddenly, it seemed to him, they were breathing the same air, then Jim's hand was in his jet black hair and the man's mouth was on his own. Spock's mind reeled as Jim applied gentle but persistent pressure, and then his tongue was teasing against Spock’s lower lip. He opened his mouth mostly to make a sound of surprise, but Jim kept a grip on Spock and slid his tongue in instead.

Spock felt like his breathing was suddenly and embarrassingly loud and rapid through his nose and his fingers clutched at the leather of Jim’s jacket, making it creak. He realised belatedly he was kissing Jim back and then that he couldn’t _possibly_ \- it wasn’t proper. He pushed at the other man and Jim immediately let him draw back, though he kept a light hold on his hip and the back of his head.

“I…” Spock said, the syllable choked.

Jim didn’t say anything for a few moments, then; “Was that your first kiss?”

Spock scowled at him, immediately affronted. “Of course not. I am Vulcan, not dead.”

Jim grinned and pulled him in again, pressing their foreheads together. He resisted a little, but Jim held him fast. “I wanna do it again,” he murmured.

Spock’s scowl deepened. “No.”

“Why not?” Jim challenged.

“Because it is not proper.”

“Ugh, that again? You enjoyed it. You kissed me back. Why fight it?”

Spock opened his mouth, could think of nothing to say, snapped it shut again. He pushed away from Jim and turned on his heel. He was gone almost before Jim even realised that was his plan.

\- - - - - - -

Jim didn’t see Spock for three days.

“What are you smiling about?” Bones accused, morose as usual. “We’ve been working on this same stupid conduit for days.”

“Well, we have done other things in between,” Chekov pointed out. “Please put your finger there.”

Bones shifted a little. “Not the point, kid.”

“If something’s worth doing,” Jim said, not bothering to finish the adage. “I have faith in you.”

“Yeah, yeah. You still haven’t answered my question.”

“Spock.”

“Spock? We haven’t seen that pointy-eared Christmas elf for three days.”

“I know,” Jim replied, his smile widening.

“That can’t be a good thing,” Bones said, then; “Ow!” He snatched his hands out of the conglomeration of wires, shaking the right one hard where Chekov had accidentally stabbed him with the pliers he was using.

“Sorry! Sorry!” Chekov said hastily, though he barely looked up from work.

“It is, though,” Jim replied. “Means he’s off balance.”

“Off… Jim. You can’t do anything if he’s not around.”

“Believe me, he’s thinking about your's truly,” Jim said confidently.

Bones rolled his eyes. “You don’t think you should - I don’t know - actually go work on him?”

“Please. I know what I’m doing,” Jim promised.

\- - - - - -

Spock was acutely aware of the amount of time he’d spent prevaricating, finding any and all jobs he could complete within the confines of his office and quarters. It was adding up - reaching almost six days since…

His mind skittered, shying away from the incident in the dance club and the emotions that it engendered. They were… intense, ephemeral, hard to control, despite the long hours he’d spent in meditation to try to control them.

At any rate, he had run out of things to do and would have to brave the ship. This was getting ridiculous anyway. He couldn’t keep avoiding Kirk.

He _wasn’t_ avoiding Kirk, dammit.

He snatched up his data padd and headed into the ship proper. There were a lot of things that needed his attention, and he applied himself diligently, definitely _not_ keeping a furtive eye out for a certain someone in order to hide from him.

He nearly made it, too, right to the bottom of his list before Kirk cornered him - and cornered was exactly the right word.

Spock went into a small alcove off Engineering that housed power relays and backup computers, checking all of them and making notes on his data padd. There was no one around. It wasn’t until he tucked his data padd away and started out of the alcove that Kirk was suddenly there, crowding him back into it, boxing him against the back wall with a hand to either side of his shoulders.

“There you are,” he said, his mouth close to Spock’s throat.

Spock swallowed hard. “Mr. Kirk. Good afternoon.”

“I’m still Mr. Kirk? Even after…” Kirk trailed off and Spock could feel his grin against his jawline. He thought he once again caught a faint scent of chocolate, but he was sure it must be his mind playing tricks.

He tried to back away, but there was nowhere to back to. However, Kirk gave him a little space, moving back himself. Not enough for Spock to get past him, mind.

“Ah, yes, regarding that…” Spock began, but Kirk put out a hand, halting him.

“Please don’t give me another speech about what’s right and what’s proper and what’s inappropriate,” Kirk said, and he sounded a little testy, now, or perhaps even upset. “Look me in the eye and tell me you didn’t enjoy it.”

Spock opened his mouth, closed it again and dropped his gaze. “I have work to do, Mr. Kirk.”

“You work too much,” Kirk said, reaching out a hand and stirring Spock’s expensive robes. “A little bit of play never killed anyone.”

“Unless they were Vulcan,” Spock replied, voice tight.

Jim looked up from his hand, cocking his head. “Is that what you’re afraid of?”

Spock drew himself up. “I am _not_ afraid,” he said firmly.

“Oh, yeah? Could’ve fooled me. Ran out of that bar like you were.”

“I did not run.”

“Okay, that’s a bit more believable…” He sucked his teeth. “Walked quickly. But it amounts to the same thing.” The hand slid up Spock’s robes, flat against his torso and then his chest.

Spock flinched and tried to draw back. “Mr. Kirk, we are in Engineering and I d-”

“Oh, do you wanna go somewhere else?” Kirk wondered, his smirk devilish.

Spock felt the tips of his ears heat and he wasn’t sure of the right way to answer him. He realised a part of him _did_ want to go somewhere else. He couldn’t give in. He shook his head. “I c… We… No, Mr. Kirk, this is…” He trailed off, trying to collect his thoughts, because he was mortified at the fact that he was _stammering_.

Kirk took care of that for him by kissing him, and leaving him no more opportunity to speak. And, yet again, before he knew what was going on, he was kissing Kirk back. His hand was even in the man’s hair, grasping, holding him close.

“Spock… why are you fighting this?” Kirk asked, drawing back a little to take breath. He smoothed a hand through Spock’s dark hair. “We both want it.”

“I… I do not.”

“Huh, you’re lying again."

Spock opened and closed his mouth a couple of times. His long fingers curled a little in Kirk's shirt. "Mr. Kirk, I cannot do this."

"You can, though," Kirk said softly, running his knuckles gently down Spock's face. "You really can."

Spock hesitated, shaking his head and dropping his eyes aside.

"You said it yourself," Kirk murmured, sliding closer still. "You're Vulcan, not dead."

This time, Spock kissed Jim.

\- - - - - - -

He couldn't remember going back to his quarters, but they were there and their shoes were the door and Jim's hands were in his hair, gentle but insistent, their bodies pressed together. Jim kissed him, and he was kissing Jim back and couldn't find any protests anymore.

He was aware, in a vague sort of way, of Jim carefully easing him back towards the bed, an awareness that came into sharp clarity when the backs of his knees finally touched it.

"Jim," he said, the name blurting from him in a short break in the kiss.

"There, that’s my name. I knew you had it in you," Jim said, smoothing his hair and giving him that familiar roguish smile. He pressed a hand gently to Spock's shoulder and after a moment's uncertainty, he sat then lay back on the bed. When Jim put a knee on the mattress, he shimmied back to the pillows and was gratified when the other man followed to kiss him again. And again. And again.

Spock was breathless by the time Jim drew back, kneeling astride him to shrug out of his jacket. He crossed his arms to take off his shirt but Spock sat up a little, brushing his hands away to take hold of the shirt himself and pull it off over Jim’s head. He went further still, undoing Jim’s belt.. It was the work of mere seconds to get Jim down to his briefs.

Then Jim’s hands went for Spock’s expensive robes. That wasn’t so easy. His topmost brocaded jacket came easily enough and Jim set it down carefully beside the bed, aware of the expensive data padd in one of the voluminous pockets. His nimble fingers dealt with the silken belt just as easily, but then he couldn’t work out how to get inside Spock’s tunic.

The Vulcan was deliberately no help, a ghost of a smirk (which for him was like laughing aloud) curling his mouth as Jim’s hands felt all up and down the faux closure at the front. “I am losing interest,” he teased after a few moments, though it was a complete lie and they both knew it.

“This isn’t a real opening,” Jim realised after a few moments more. “That’s not _fair_.”

Spock’s mouth twitched a little higher and he twisted a bit, lifting an arm to show a hidden zipper in the side seam.

“Goddamn Vulcans,” Jim growled, but he was grinning and soon had the zip open and the tunic off.

“Mmm,” Spock hummed in agreement, the sound lengthening when Jim closed his mouth over a nipple.

Spock was, as he’d said and Jim had reiterated, Vulcan, not dead. Jim wasn’t his first lover, but it seemed he was a skilled one. His mouth teased at Spock’s chest, licking and nipping and sucking until Spock was murmuring and sighing pleasure through his teeth, Vulcan sensibilities still trying to keep some semblance of control.

“Look at you,” Jim said with a gentle amusement that wasn’t at all mocking. “Still fighting.”

“It is in my nature,” Spock replied, looking down at him.

“Yeah, I know. It’s adorable.”

“Vulcans are not adorable.”

Jim just laughed and hooked his fingers over the waistband of Spock’s fitted slacks, easing them down his legs and off and taking his underwear along with them.

He leaned over Spock, one hand wrapping around his cock to start stroking, slow and steady.

Spock curled one arm around Jim, his hand pressing down his spine and his body arching into Jim’s touch.

“You’re right,” Jim murmured after a few moments, his eyes intent as he watched Spock’s face. “You’re not adorable, you’re _beautiful._ ”

Spock’s own dark eyes opened to mere slits so he could look up at Jim, searching for the lie or the tease. There was none. He smiled a little. “Thank you.”

Jim smiled a lot. “You’re more than welcome,” he said softly and kissed Spock again, long and lingering and in a way that made the Vulcan feel warm all over. His hand was back at work and it wasn’t long before Spock couldn’t concentrate on the kiss, his head pressing back into the pillows and a low moan easing from him.

Jim sat up a little and Spock blinked as he reached over the side of the bed and into his leather jacket. He came back with a small bottle of oil in his hand.

“Oh, so you had this planned?” Spock asked, one angled brow lifting in not-so-subtle judgement.

“Planned is a strong word. I was hoping,” Jim replied, grinning unrepentantly. Spock couldn’t help but smile back and he didn’t protest as he watched Jim drizzle the oil into his palm and along his fingers. He reached down with the hand he held the bottle in, touching Spock’s thigh lightly with his pinky and ring fingers and Spock lifted his leg up and to the side. “Hey, you’ve done this before?” Jim asked, looking back to Spock’s face.

“As I have said, I am-”

“Vulcan, not dead, I know,” Jim said in amusement. “But I meant with another man.”

“Yes,” Spock said shortly and Jim knew better than to press, if he had wanted to. He just nodded instead and brought the slick hand down between Spock’s legs, dragging it down the underside of his cock and lower just to watch the slow arch of his body. He pressed two fingers to the Vulcan’s entrance and began to rub teasingly, waiting until Spock was trembling with need before pressing one inside.

Spock’s lips parted and his thick eyelashes fluttered, one hand gripping at Jim’s shoulder as he made a low, throaty sound that sent shivers of arousal up Jim’s spine. He worked the finger gently, then a little quicker and soon added another when Spock whispered his desire for it.

Jim leaned down to mouth at Spock’s throat, tongue and teeth teasing the green-tinged skin. Spock tilted his head willingly, giving Jim all the access he wanted as the fingers slid deft and deep inside of him.

“Jim,” Spock muttered and Jim smiled, sliding his fingers free and pouring a bit more of the oil between Spock’s legs and over his own cock. He put the bottle aside and settled on his knees between the Vulcan’s long legs, lifting one over his shoulder.

“Okay?” he asked.

“Yes,” Spock said unwaveringly, maybe even a little eagerly, which for him was a big deal.

Jim grinned, bringing a hand between them to guide himself within Spock, whose eyelids fluttered. His lips parted as well, though no sound came forth and Jim took that for encouragement and did not stop until he was deep in the other man’s body.

“Oh, Spock,” he purred, dropping a myriad of small kisses against his mouth.

“Jim,” Spock replied, wrapping the other leg around the other man’s waist as he began to move in slow, satisfying thrusts.

Jim lowered his body, pressing against as much of Spock as he could and Spock dragged his mouth along a rounded shoulder to Jim’s neck, breathing out a shaking sigh there that soon turned into soft sounds of pleasure at each thrust.

Jim’s fisted hand tightened in the pillow beside Spock’s head, his other arm curling under Spock’s shoulders to hold him close.

If there was any vestige of doubt or ideas of impropriety in Spock’s mind, they were washed away by the heat and pleasure of Jim’s body moving within his own. Spock clung to him feeling their movements fall into sync just like when they were dancing. Then Jim’s mouth came to his ear, skilled lips and tongue teasing at the edges of it in a way that sent stars sparking across the back of Spock’s eyelids.

“Jim,” he said again. “Jim, Jim!” His hands clutched at Jim’s back, holding him tighter, closer, but somehow Jim managed to get a hand between them and wrap it around his cock, still slick with the oil from earlier.

All three points of pleasure seemed crystalised in Spock’s mind, Jim’s mouth on his ear, his hand on his cock and the calculated, measured thrusts of his hips. The man was a more skilled lover than any Spock had had previously and the scraps of his mind that were still in tact marvelled at his control. These were surface thoughts, though, which he heeded little. He was as in the moment as he could ever be and it was a _good_ moment.

Shudders and twitches flooded his body, completely out of his control and entirely in Jim’s as he played Spock like a harp, drawing any number of low whines, moans and gasps from him. He trembled, clutching at Jim more desperately with every thrust and touch until he was a shaking, arching, almost writhing mess.

“Jim,” he said again, and it was nearly, _nearly_ a sob.

“Yeah,” Jim said, and at least his voice was tight, strained with the effort he was putting into keeping himself under wraps. “It’s okay, baby. I got you.”

Spock hid his face in the crook of Jim’s shoulder and neck, lips parting against his skin in a soundless cry. His back bowed and his body drew taut, his arms tightening around Jim’s body as his release broke over him.

“That’s it,” Jim whispered, the words husky and pleased in Spock’s ear. “Oh, Spock.”

Spock pressed a smile into Jim’s shoulder, holding him close as he began to move again, seeking his own pleasure now that Spock’s was assured. Both his hands came up to the pillows, now, fisting there and pulling himself in then pressing out again. It was different, but just as good. Now it was Spock murmuring; “That is right… Jim… Yes, you are nearly there.”

And then he was there, pushing his hips hard against Spock and burying himself deep as he came. New shudders wracked both their frames and Spock gave another throaty whine.

For a long few moments, they lay joined together, breathing ragged against one another’s ears which, for Spock at least, kept the dying fires of his pleasure flickering. It was intimate and he liked it and just as he was having the thought it would be nice if Jim licked his ear, he did, slow and steady from the lobe to the tip. Yet another shudder wracked his body and he tugged away.  
  
“You cease that immediately,” he demanded, but there was a note of teasing in his tone that was unmissable.

Jim chuckled and did it again, but quicker and more of a tease before he flopped to the side, and Spock almost immediately missed his close presence and the deep fill of his cock.

“Oh, Spock, you look almost sad,” Jim said, his cavalier smile softened as he studied the Vulcan, propping himself up on an elbow.

“Almost,” Spock admitted. There was no use hiding things from Jim any more. They’d shared as much as it was possible to share.

The soft smile turned to a grin and Jim leaned in, kissing him gently. “Don’t be. I’m sure we can find some time to do it again.”

Spock licked the corner of his mouth and considered this. “Yes,” he agreed after a few moments, the warmth of Jim’s fingertips tracing patterns by his navel prompting a swift reply. “Yes, I am sure we can.”

The grin broadened and Jim kissed him again.

\- - - - - - -

In the early hours of the morning, after an entire hour of measuring Spock’s breaths in his head, Jim decided he was completely and deeply asleep. Only one of Spock’s arms lay across him and he gently moved it off, then waited another twenty minutes, listening, before he was satisfied. He only had to roll to one side and reach off the bed, digging through the brocaded jacket he himself had removed from Spock hours ago. His fingers found the data padd and slid it out of the pocket.

His torso half hanging off the bed so Spock would see nothing even if he did wake, Jim pressed a tiny, button-sized object to the corner of the data padd. Immediately, it lit up and the nanobug went to work deciphering Spock’s passwords and encryptions.

He tossed one edge of the jacket over the padd to hide it’s faint glow and settled back on the pillows again, listening to Spock’s breathing once more. He gave the bug an hour, though he knew it only needed forty minutes at best. Then he hung over the side of the bed once more, removed the bug and slid it back into the pocket of his leather jacket.

He lay back once more and turned his head to face Spock. Uncertain starlight painted his angled features and Jim swallowed, dropped his gaze and rolled over.

\- - - - - - -

Jim had never been accused of being low on stamina - in fact the very opposite - but Spock was equal to him if not even more voracious. It was like since he had given in, he wasn’t going to retreat again. He never initiated anything while they were working, but he frequently invited Jim back to his quarters after work or took Jim up on his offers, either to go out or stay in, either of which eventually ended up in bed.

Jim wasn’t complaining.

Bones was.

“This ain’t supposed to be about him, Jim, and you know it,” he was growling into the whiskey he nursed on the countertop in Jim’s small kitchenette.

“It isn’t. But I may as well enjoy it, right?” Jim said, his gaze firmly on the cloth in his hand, with which he was firmly wiping the counter, having just finished making dinner.

“Jim. Come on. I know you. You can’t let this af-”

“It _won’t_. You know I’ve never put myself above the cause, and this won’t be any different,” Jim snarled, smacking the cloth down on the countertop.

Bones flinched, but he didn’t back down. “I also know your weaknesses, and he’s one of them. A prickly hedgehog you’ve prised open and found the soft center of is your biggest one.”

“It’s not like that,” Jim muttered.

“Jim…” Bones said, his voice a bit gentler now. “I see how you look at him.”

Jim’s hand tightened on the cloth enough that his knuckles were white. “Doesn’t matter, does it? In two days, we’re in the wind and he’s still here.”

Bones didn’t know what to say, so he fell silent. Jim finished wiping the counter and tossed the cloth in the sink then pushed a hand through his hair. “Even if you’re right, it doesn’t matter,” he said again.

“Even if, or even though?” Bones asked quietly.

Jim poured himself a large whiskey.

\- - - - - - -

The lights of the city twinkled outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, offsetting the picture _Enterprise_ made in the distance, floodlit and picked out against the starlit sky. Her lights were aglow as well, making certain everyone in the crowded room could see her.

Spock stepped down from the dais, his dedication speech and therefore his official duties completed for the evening. He accepted a glass of champagne from a waiter and went to Jim, who was waiting nearby for him, his usual grin fixed on his face.

“Good speech. Not too boring at all,” he teased.

Spock ignored him pointedly, but Jim knew him well enough by now to see the slight smile.

“Those bigwigs from Starfleet were way more boring,” Jim added and this time Spock gave a huff of breath that, for him, passed as a laugh.

“You have no propriety, Mr. Kirk,” Spock accused.

“I haven’t kissed you in front of these geezers. I think that’s a pretty good effort,” Jim pointed out.

Spock shook his head and gave a slight roll of his eyes, but again the hidden smile was there.

There were a lot of Vulcan ambassadors and ‘bigwigs’, as Jim would say, there as well and Spock hadn’t said so, but Jim got the feeling he probably wouldn’t be comfortable with any public displays of affection in this crowd, so he hadn’t given any, and nor did he for the rest of the evening. But he did stay close, wanting to eke out the last of his time with Spock as much as he could.

When most of the crowd had gone, Spock touched his hand and they went out onto the balcony where they could see the ship in all her glory. He moved close, sliding his hand into Jim’s, and he was definitely smiling now.

Jim tugged a bit on Spock’s hand and the Vulcan moved in for a lingering kiss. “We did it,” he murmured against Jim’s mouth.

“Mmhm,” Jim agreed. “All because you’re so anal.”

“I prefer detail-oriented,” Spock replied.

“Who said I was talking about your work?” Jim teased, waggling his brows.

Spock shoved him, but still had hold of his hand, so they didn’t part very far. They both looked up at the ship.

“It is beautiful,” Spock murmured.

“Careful, you’re almost waxing poetic. What _will_ the other Vulcans say?”

“They cannot hear me. And it _is_ beautiful. We both worked hard on it and there is nothing wrong with appreciating our hard work.”

Jim nodded, moving in against Spock’s side. They stood in silence for a time and the lights on the _Enterprise_ started to go out as she shut down for the night.

Eventually, it was Spock who broke the silence. “Will you find another job now?”

“Probably,” Jim replied, his fingers threading in and out of Spock’s between them. “Unless you want to keep paying me.”

“...I will probably go back to Vulcan. That was the agreement,” Spock replied slowly.

“With the Council?”

“Yes.”

“I hope you’ll be happy there,” Jim murmured.

Spock was silent for a long time, then, as though he’d had to steel himself and force the words to come, he blurted; “Jim, I love you.”

Jim drew back, his hand slipping from Spock’s almost in slow motion, it seemed. He stared at the Vulcan, his heart hammering in his chest so hard he was sure Spock’s sensitive hearing must pick it up.

“That isn’t funny,” he said weakly.

“I was not joking,” Spock replied.

“But… but you… you’re…”

“Vulcan, not dead,” Spock put in, his mouth twitching a little at the well-used line.

Jim reached out, grasping at Spock’s sleeve. “No. You’re going back to Vulcan.”

Spock watched him intently for a long few moments, then lowered his gaze. “Yes, I suppose I am.”

Jim slid his hand along Spock’s jaw, lifting his face to brush their lips together. “I can’t go there with you,” he murmured and kissed him.

Spock didn’t answer, but there was a desperation to the kiss on both their parts, then Jim drew away, knowing if he didn’t do it soon, he wouldn’t do it at all.

“Jim…”

“I’ve got to go,” Jim said before Spock could say any more.

“Jim!”

He had already left the balcony and disappeared from the function room.

\- - - - - - -

“Jim, are you-”

“Let’s do this,” Jim cut across him, snatching up his bag and slinging it over his shoulder as he, Bones, Chekov and the rest of their crew boarded the _Enterprise_.

He went straight to the Bridge, steeling himself to get it done before he changed his mind. He took the little nanobug out of his pocket and slapped it on the main console. He sat down to wait while the others busied themselves elsewhere, leaving him well enough alone.

He sat silently in the half-light of the bridge, waiting for the nanobug to do its work. Brooding.

The cause _was_ more important than his personal feelings, he knew that. Starfleet was crushing half the galaxy under the iron rule and it couldn’t continue.

But his heart was breaking - had broken, in fact, when Spock said he loved him.

He dipped his head, pressing the heels of his hands to his closed eyes and took a shaking breath, swallowing the tears he couldn’t afford to give into.

The nanobug beeped, closed up and fell off the console.

Jim lifted his head, blinking. The _Enterprise_ remained dark.

Eyes narrowed, he reached for the communicator in his breast pocket, intending to contact Chekov, but as he turned towards the door, he came face to face with Spock.

He was so surprised he staggered back and nearly tripped over, but gathered himself at the last moment, a hand steadying him against the console. “Spock…?”

“Mr. Kirk,” Spock replied, voice quiet, sharp.

He glanced at the nanobug lying, inert, on the floor, realisation dawning. “When did you figure it out?” he asked.

“It does not matter. I am surprised and possibly a little hurt you thought I would not.”

“Chekov is pretty good at that sort of thing. It’s very rare anyone finds evidence.”

“I am not just anyone,” Spock said, advancing a step.

“No. No, you’re not,” Jim said, shoulders slumping. “You’re so much more.”

“Flattery,” Spock said, almost derisive. “Now? You had your chance.”

Jim pushed a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “I had to do it. We needed a ship. And there isn’t one better than this one.”

Spock’s face remained granite.

“It wasn’t just for me or even my crew,” Jim went on. “We can’t keep letting Starfleet expand. More and more planets are falling under them. Yours could be next.”

“We have an agreement,” Spock said shortly.

“You think they’ll honour that forever? I sure don’t.”

Spock said nothing. He approached Jim, steps slow, moving right up into his space.

“Spock, I-”

“I know what Starfleet is doing. The Council is aware. They chose alliance as the most logical course of action.”

Jim scoffed and made to move away, but Spock’s hands flashed out, lightning quick, boxing Jim in against the console.

“If you’re gonna turn me in, do it now,” Jim growled. “Don’t play with me.”

“Vulcans do not play.”

“Then if you’re gonna beat the shit outta me, hurry up and do that too.”

“I told you I loved you.”

Jim blinked, shrinking back a little against the console. “Yeah… I know… I was… there?”

Spock bared his teeth slightly in frustration. “I told you I loved you,” he said again.

“I _know_. You’ve said that. I don’t know-”

“I am _Vulcan_ , James.” He leaned closer, his voice hushed. “You know how much it took for me to say that. I know you do.”

“I-I know, but I… I had to do this…” He gestured at the ship around them.

“And this is the only reason, yes? _This_ is the reason you did what you did. _This_ is the reason you… you… _fornicated_ with me.”

“Forni… Spock, no one says-”

“Answer me.”

Jim’s breath hitched. Spock was so close, and so intense, and he’d never seen him like this except when they were in bed. His body stirred like a sleeping lion coming awake and he kind of arched towards Spock.

“No,” Spock growled, drawing back just a little. “ _Answer_ me.”

Jim’s hands tightened on the edge of the console. “N-No.” He’d never felt on the back foot, always in control of his interactions with Spock, but this was completely different.

“No? You will not answer?”

Jim shook his head hard. “That’s not - No. I mean… no _is_ the answer. It wasn’t… It wasn’t just… I… I got the codes the first time.”

Spock studied his face, his dark eyes afire in the starlight and scattered neons from the city. “Then it was a game?”

“No, fuck, no. I… just… I…”

“Speak, Kirk, you have never lacked words before,” Spock said almost through his teeth.

Jim licked his lips. “I didn’t… I shouldn’t have, anymore, after that first night. But I wanted to.”

“You wanted to?” Spock echoed, the console creaking under the pressure of his hands.

“I couldn’t stop.” A pause, then almost accusatory; “Neither could you.”

Spock’s brows rose. “I am not the one fornicating for the sake of the Resistance,” he snapped.

Jim couldn’t help it. He laughed. Spock scowled hard, but that only made Jim laugh harder. “Spock, _no one_ says fornicating.”

“I do,” Spock said, affronted.

“Yes, I suppose you do.” Jim sighed, closing his eyes briefly. “Spock. You know what I did, what I’m about to do. Are you turning me in? Are you beating me up? Killing me? …What do you want?”

Spock shifted his weight, swallowed. He dropped his eyes and lifted them again, taking a breath. “I wanted you to ask me to go with you.”

Jim blinked, staring at him with wide eyes. “Wh… what?”

“I knew what you were going to do days ago. I knew where you were going after the party. I told you I loved you and I gave you the chance. I wanted you to ask me to go with you.”

“I… you… I couldn’t… do that… You wouldn’t.”

“How could you know? How could you _possibly_ know I would not go with you?”

“I didn’t know.”

Spock’s head dropped, along with his voice. “I did not know if you loved me, but I told you I love you. I took the chance. And you… you told me to go back to Vulcan.”

“I didn’t. I said… I said that was what you were doing. It is… what you’re doing, right?”

Spock searched his face again. He pushed away from the console and turned his back on Jim. “I suppose I must,” he murmured, and there was a tone in his voice Jim had never heard before. He reached out, putting a hand on Spock’s shoulder.

“You said… you wanted me to ask you to go with me?”

Spock nodded. He was tense under Jim’s hand, trembling.

“Because… you love me?”

Another nod.

“Of course I want you to come with me, if you want to. It’s… a shit life… but we’re trying to do something big.”

Spock took a breath, and when he spoke, that strange tone was still in his voice. “I know what you are trying to do.”

Jim reached up to turn Spock around. “I love you, too,” he whispered.

He cupped his hand against Spock’s jaw, thumb brushing his cheekbone. There was dampness there, and he realised Spock’s thick lashes were wet with tears.

“Spock…”

“I wanted you to ask me. When you did not, I had no idea what to do.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Spock. I… didn’t mean to make you cry. Well… I didn’t think I could.”

“Jim… I am Vulcan, not dead,” he said, a slight smile breaking through.

Jim smiled too, leaning in to kiss him gently. “So… can we fire up this ship and get outta here?”

Spock hummed, letting Jim brush the tears off his cheeks. “Yes. I think I know the codes.”

Jim’s smile turned into a grin as Spock brushed past him to go to the console.

As the _Enterprise_ awoke around them, nacells pulsing and engines growling to life, Jim pressed against Spock’s back, turning his head a little to kiss him.

“I do love you, Spock. I’m sorry.”

Spock hummed. “You have plenty of time to make it up to me.”

“I will. Oh, I will.”

Spock smiled and leaned back into him as space opened before them and the city fell away behind.


End file.
